


Tuesday Night in Town

by Solaryllis



Series: Saturday Night Universe [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solaryllis/pseuds/Solaryllis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The cold hard truth was that he had some kind of weird attraction to Madge Undersee." Madge encounters trouble when she's home alone one Tuesday night. Gale helps out. Missing moment fic set during Catching Fire while Katniss and Peeta are training for the Quarter Quell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on FFN in January 2012. It builds on events in my story "Saturday Night in the Seam," although it's not necessary to read that first.

Madge's parents were taking their sweet time getting out the door. She didn't understand why it took so long for them to put their sweaters on and grab the bottle of wine on the table in the foyer.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us to the Spurlocks' for dinner, sweetie?" Mrs. Undersee asked as she draped her sweater over her shoulders. "You've been so withdrawn lately. Maybe some visiting would help take your mind off… everything."

Her mother couldn't even bear to articulate it: _take your mind off the fact that your only friend is going to endure a second Hunger Games and in all likelihood will actually die this time._ No, her mother preferred to speak in euphemisms about such unpleasantness. Madge had learned that the hard way. Pushing her mother too far out of her comfort zone usually triggered a headache, whether real or an escape mechanism Madge wasn't sure.

"I have too much homework," Madge said with a tight smile. "End of the year assignments." She'd finished everything already, but thank goodness she could always count on the homework excuse when she wanted to get out of one of the Undersees' standing Tuesday night commitments. ("Social chores" as her father called them when Madge was his only audience.) The Tuesday gatherings of the merchant families were usually at the Undersees' house, but every once in a while social climbers like the Spurlocks insisted on hosting. Probably to make sure they would be the centers of attention, Madge thought.

"Well, remember to turn off the burner after you've heated the dinner Vera left for you," Mrs. Undersee said. "It's in the refrigerator—"

"Mom, I know how to use the stove. I make tea all the time." Madge tried not to sound too testy, but being treated like she was seven instead of seventeen was more than a little annoying.

"Come along, Marilyn," Mayor Undersee said as he gently put his hand on his wife's elbow and guided her to the front door. "Madge will be fine, but this wine isn't going to drink itself."

Mrs. Undersee shot him an exasperated look, but let herself be steered onto the porch with a parting smile at her daughter. Madge waved good-bye and then shut the door.

More than she wanted to let on, she was looking forward to having the house to herself. No parents, no household staff, no deputies of her father's reviewing reports at the dining room table late into the night. They all meant well, but someone was always asking her if she'd talked to Katniss lately and did Madge know if Katniss and Peeta were still planning to get married before the Quell, and how were the poor things coping? Most people had enough sense not to ask Katniss herself but considered Madge fair game, and Madge was glad she could serve as a buffer for her friend but she _knew_ that merciless gossip Mr. Spurlock would have cornered her before dinner. And what could she say? She wasn't the one facing vicious, twice-her-size Hunger Games victors in a deadly arena. She wasn't the one who would either be killed or watch her fiancé be killed. Or both. No, Madge would just keep on going to school, playing piano, and trying to understand why life in Panem was so miserable.

After she watched her parents walk down the pathway to the street, Madge went upstairs to her father's study to see if anything new of interest had turned up in the locked drawer in his desk. But it was a bust; her father either took the key with him or started hiding it in a more secure location. To Madge's extreme disappointment, he'd been a lot more cautious about not leaving things out ever since Thread and the ruthless new Peacekeepers arrived. Nothing was the same in town anymore, and by extension, in the Undersee household. And yet her parents went out of their way to maintain the façade of normalcy, like with the silly Tuesday night gatherings.

With nothing left to do upstairs, she wandered into the kitchen to reheat her meal and indulged in eating at the small kitchen table rather than the imposing formal dining table, which she hated on principle. How many dinners with shallow and condescending Capitol visitors had she had to endure at that table? Even one was too many.

As she ate, she kept hearing her mother's admonition to turn off the burner, which made her angrier the more she thought about it. It was just one more example of them coddling her and assuming she couldn't handle taking care of herself. It was the same kind of thinking that lay behind her father constantly shooing her out of his office and sugarcoating what was really happening in the district lately, as though she couldn't see what the Peacekeepers were doing to people right outside their front door. But she _knew_ she could handle the kitchen. She could probably even make dessert.

Once the idea surfaced, she became convinced of its greatness. She could picture her mother's surprised reaction upon being presented with a beautiful cake when they came home later. Her mother would taste it and praise its deliciousness, surely on par with anything made by the Mellarks. And best of all: Madge would never have to endure another comment about remembering to turn off the burner. Her parents would have no choice but to start seeing her as independent and capable.

She couldn't find the recipe book though, and wasn't sure what exactly went into a cake, so after a few minutes of staring at the pantry she revised her plan and decided to make biscuits instead. "Easiest thing on the planet," their housekeeper Vera always said when she made them, and Madge had watched her do it often enough that she thought she would be all right. With some strawberry jam, biscuits would be nearly as good as cake.

They turned out to not be as easy as Madge thought. The bag of flour exploded when she tried to open it and she couldn't remember what Vera put in the bowl besides flour. Butter? Milk? She tried those but wasn't sure what amounts to use. Her batter was a lot thicker than Vera's so she added more milk until it seemed right, and then she scooped large blobs of dough onto the metal sheet and pushed it into the oven, making a guess at the right temperature. Even if biscuits weren't cake, her parents would return home to the warm, comforting aroma of baking. As long as Madge swept up the flour on the floor, they would be utterly impressed at how mature she was becoming. Maybe her father would even stop editing himself about town business when he knew she was nearby.

But first, she needed to change into a shirt that wasn't covered in flour and ran back upstairs. As she passed her father's study on the way to her bedroom, she noticed the red light blinking on the monitor that received bulletins directly from the Capitol. She hesitated for only a second while she worked out an excuse— _If there was an emergency, I would have needed to come get you, Daddy_ —and then stepped into the room and typed into the keypad the code she'd seen her father use.

It was a broadcast detailing new security precautions. The mayors and Peacekeepers were instructed to prevent groups of larger than five persons from gathering without a permit and to halt all trade of berries, believed to be a symbol of terrorist groups intent on bringing destruction and anarchy to Panem.

Madge was transfixed and quickly connected the terrorists to the nightlock berries Katniss and Peeta had used to trick the Capitol into sparing their lives. It seemed preposterous for the Capitol to blame Katniss and Peeta for the actions of terrorists, but maybe that's exactly what was happening. From eavesdropping on her parents, she'd learned that President Snow was upset that there were two victors last year but she hadn't thought much about it until the Quarter Quell announcement—no, death sentence—came out. She'd started to suspect the Quell was rigged, and took to filching newspapers and whatever else she could get her hands on that might help Katniss and Peeta. But it felt like nothing at all. And if terrorists were using Katniss and Peeta as symbols, what hope could they possibly have of surviving?

When the message started repeating, Madge shut off the monitor and retreated to her room to put on a clean shirt, outraged at the unfairness of Katniss and Peeta being associated with violence they had nothing to do with. They shouldn't have been subjected to the violence of the Hunger Games to begin with, either. Nobody should! She tossed her flour-dusted shirt violently in the directly of the laundry basket and wished she hadn't already taken her shoes off so she could kick them at the wall just to hear the smack.

A shrill siren pierced the air.

For a horrifying second, Madge thought it was coming from her father's study, and that someone had figured out she had turned his monitor on. But then she realized that the siren was coming from downstairs.

The smoke alarm.

_The biscuits!_

Madge flew down the stairs. As soon as she hit the first floor the acrid scent of burning assaulted her nostrils. She said a quick prayer for _no fire, no fire, no fire_ as she waved away the thin haze filling the hallway. Ripping open the oven door, she coughed as a cloud of gray smoke rushed into her face. She fell backward onto the flour-covered floor, tried to catch her breath, and then struggled to her feet to turn the oven off. The biscuits had transformed into coal, but at least there were no flames. Disaster averted. District 12 and flames did not mix well.

Unfortunately, the almost-disaster did not bode well for her night. She needed to cover up the mess. Getting rid of the smoke was the first step; she opened the back door to air out the kitchen. Then she tipped the blackened non-biscuits into the garbage bin and wondered if scrubbing the metal sheet for the next _hour_ would be enough to get rid of the charring…

With an angry sigh, Madge set to work. When her mother tried to teach her how to make the old Donner family recipe for caramel, Madge had burned that too. Her mother had tactfully explained that caramel was very tricky. But biscuits, the easiest thing on the planet? Madge saw a future filled with more reminders about remembering to turn off the burner.

She was scrubbing steadily in the kitchen sink when she felt a wisp of air disturb her hair. A glance at the door confirmed that it was still open. She hadn't noticed much of a breeze earlier that day and thought maybe the weather was changing.

But when she felt it again, she turned around. And screamed.

* * *

Gale stood in the shadows outside Peeta Mellark's house in the Victor's Village, debating whether to knock. He heard the animated voices of Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch arguing inside. They were holding a Quarter Quell strategy session, just like Mrs. Everdeen had told him when he'd stopped by to pick up the vial of pills to treat Vick's lingering cough. Rory was supposed to have brought the pills home with him since he was at the Everdeen house after school nearly every day, but the little punk forgot.

Other than hassling Rory about his Primrose-inspired memory lapse, Gale had kept his griping to a minimum because he was glad for the excuse to see Katniss on a weekday and to take a walk outdoors on a pleasant spring evening after yet another grueling shift. The sun had only just set and there was enough light remaining that he could almost remember what it was like to spend more time outdoors than underground.

Mrs. E had seemed embarrassed to have to tell Gale that Katniss was at Peeta's house, and her discomfort alone was almost enough to make Gale regret making the unexpected trip; he hated how transparent their dysfunctional little triangle was. Because there wouldn't be a triangle if the Capitol and Peeta hadn't wormed their way in between Gale and Katniss. And to his continued disbelief, _Gale_ was the one left out—the complication that refused to back away politely. He didn't have much use for politeness.

Gale didn't know if he was up for what he endured on the Sunday training sessions he helped with: watching Katniss's eyes follow Peeta everywhere, Peeta trying to hide his longing and concern for Katniss, and Haymitch overseeing everything like an angry hawk. But Mrs. E would mention to Katniss he'd stopped by, so his not visiting would seem like a slight and he didn't want to be the source of one more thing for Katniss to worry about. He knocked with three firm raps on the door.

Peeta answered and wasn't quite fast enough at hiding his displeasure at seeing Gale, but nevertheless welcomed him inside the house politely. Even facing death, Peeta Mellark apparently did still have the energy to be polite.

"Gale! Is something wrong?" Katniss jumped up from her chair.

He held up the vial of pills. "Just picking up medicine for Vick from your mom. She said you were over here."

"Oh _wonderful_ , the charming cousin," Haymitch said as he reached for one of the newspapers strewn across the table. He kicked out the chair next to him without looking at Gale. "Have a seat, Cuz."

"Be nice," Katniss snapped in Haymitch's direction. He didn't respond other than to turn the page of the newspaper, but Gale could practically hear the guy's eyes rolling behind the newsprint pages. Gale stayed glued to the doorway so it would be clear he didn't want to commit to entering Peeta's house or spending time with Haymitch. His one consolation was that Peeta looked uncomfortable, checking his watch as though even a few seconds of Gale was too much. Gale thought the principle applied equally well in reverse and made sure to glare in Peeta's direction.

"Vick's not better yet?" Katniss asked Gale.

Her question reminded him of all the planning they used to do together about which sibling needed what, what they could trade to get it, what they should hunt or gather in order to make the trade… That feeling that they were both in it together.

"This will help," he said, rattling the vial once before pocketing it. His eyes took in the messy table covered with charts, maps, newspapers, and notebooks. They were apparently in the middle of a very different type of strategy session from the ones Gale participated in, which were usually outside and involved ropes and wires as he taught them useful snares. "What's going on here?"

Haymitch tossed his newspaper aside and tilted onto the back two legs of his chair as he gazed at Gale. "Studying the other victors. Your favorite mayoral offspring brought over some more Capitol newspapers."

One soft kick to the chair would throw Haymitch off balance and send him toppling backwards. Gale resisted only because Haymitch would retaliate and the resulting scuffle would cut into his time with Katniss and probably upset her. But he couldn't stand Haymitch. Besides being a lazy drunk, for unfathomable reasons he had taken to sprinkling references to Madge Undersee into loaded comments to Gale. Goading him. The only thing Gale could think of was that Haymitch had heard about the Seam dance last year where Gale had so stupidly danced with Madge. They'd made a bit of a spectacle of themselves and she was the mayor's daughter, so people had probably talked. It was inevitable that Haymitch would hear the gossip—the guy was everywhere. But it's not like Madge was even an ex-girlfriend—she was an ex-nothing. People just liked to hear themselves talk.

And Gale had gone out of his way to avoid Madge since that night. He hadn't even talked to her since reaping day, when he'd said "fine, go on" when she popped up out of nowhere in the Justice Building insisting that she needed to see Katniss but it would only take a second and could she please, please, please just zip in before Gale did? Then it turned out he _needed_ that second, that precious moment Madge had ruined, catapulting Katniss straight into Peeta Mellark's arms. Making matters worse: when Katniss first came back from the Hunger Games she'd had plenty of time in her schedule for her _sort-of_ friend Madge, but not her _best_ friend Gale. It didn't matter that Katniss later explained why that was because for Gale it still translated into more reasons to push Madge Undersee even further down the list of people he could tolerate.

But why would Haymitch know or care about any of that? Maybe it was his own way of harping on the mayor, who Haymitch never had anything pleasant to say about. Neither did Gale.

"I don't see how newspapers help," Gale said coolly. "We already know the Capitol audiences are bloodthirsty sickos." He kept his eyes on Haymitch, daring him to say something rude that would justify a violent response. Unfortunately, being crafty like a true Hunger Games victor, Haymitch usually seemed to know how to skirt just around the edge of provocation.

"There are articles about the other victors," Peeta said impatiently. "We want to learn what their skills are and how they think."

Gale saw the sense in that—learning to think like your enemy was crucial—but he wasn't about to compliment something Peeta and Madge were involved with. His primary concern was the fact that he could sense Katniss growing uncomfortable at the tense atmosphere Gale seemed to have brought with him.

"You have time for a walk?" he asked, turning toward her. Maybe once she got out of this house and away from Haymitch and Peeta, she could relax and be herself again, even if for just a few minutes.

Her eyes lit up for a few glorious seconds before she paused and glanced at Peeta, who shifted uneasily between his good leg and his bad one.

"Peeta's brothers put something together for us tonight in town… All the former wrestling team members, a tutorial or tournament or something…" Katniss trailed off awkwardly. "But, we were about to leave… We could all walk in to town together."

As much as the "all" in her sentence set him on edge, Gale figured he should take what he could get so he nodded and slumped against the doorframe to wait as the others shoved papers into folders and exited the house.

Thankfully, Peeta and Haymitch walked together a few paces ahead of him and Katniss, which gave them at least a semblance of privacy. Gale even got her to crack a smile when he said he didn't understand what Rory did at the Everdeen house all those afternoons. "He says they're doing homework, but you'd never guess it from his report card."

Katniss adopted his mock disapproving tone. "They're training Buttercup to fetch. It's very important work, Gale. If they didn't do it, I don't think it would get done."

Gale chuckled lightly, aware that Katniss was as grateful as he was that silliness with Rory and Buttercup could at least temporarily distract Prim from everything else. But Katniss grew quiet again and he suspected her thoughts were careening into melancholy so he changed the subject to recount a joke he'd heard at work. He made it halfway through before realizing the joke was too dirty and that Katniss either wouldn't get it or would be uncomfortable. He made up a lame ending that she didn't laugh at and swiftly shifted to sharing the latest news on Greasy Sae's attempts to woo Old Hank.

When they reached the edge of town, Gale said good-bye and started to split off down the alley that paralleled the main square. It was the same route he and Katniss used to take when they sold forest forage together at the back doors of the merchants' homes, and it was the only route he ever took through town lately. He preferred dark shadows and garbage bins to the town square's stocks or gallows… or whipping post.

"Making back alley sales calls?" Haymitch called. When Gale turned to look back, he saw Haymitch's eyebrows raised suggestively. "The mayor make a special request for something sweet?"

Enough with these veiled comments. "Do you have something to say?" Gale snarled, taking a threatening step toward Haymitch. "Say it."

Haymitch didn't flinch, gazing calmly at Gale, but Katniss took a symbolic step forward in between the two. "We're late," she said sharply to Haymitch. But what Gale heard was: _shut up, Haymitch_. At least Katniss was still on his side when it came to Haymitch.

Haymitch shot Gale a snide smile, turned without another word, and continued walking into town. After _annoyingly_ confirming with a glance that Katniss was indeed fine, Peeta followed, no doubt eager to forget Gale existed.

Katniss lingered and watched Gale cautiously. "We'll see you Sunday?"

He nodded, wishing it could just be the two of them. Hunting. Outside the fence. Without fake fiancés or crankily sober mentors constantly hovering and intruding.

Without a Quarter Quell aimed at Katniss like a cocked gun.


	2. Chapter 2

Gale slunk through the alley, his irritation with Haymitch still simmering. Was insinuating something about Madge Undersee Haymitch's way of pushing Gale out of the way so Katniss and Peeta wouldn't have to deal him and could focus on training? Did Haymitch just really want Katniss and Peeta to live happily ever after for their remaining months together? Whatever it was, Gale didn't appreciate it and was going to say something with his fists sooner rather than later.

When he reached the stretch of alley that passed the Undersees' back yard, he tried to avoid looking at her house, but like usual he failed. The back door was wide open, spilling the kitchen's light into the yard. He hadn't sold anything to the Undersees since Reaping Day last year, telling himself that they'd always been more of Katniss's customers than his. Not that he did much selling once he started working in the mines anyway.

He slowed his pace and paused, still watching the Undersees' house, and started to get annoyed once again at Madge's role in Katniss's life. He wished _he_ had access to newspapers and other information, that _he_ could do something more to help Katniss prepare for the Quarter Quell. Teaching her new snares and snagging a few minutes here and there to chat about nothing important felt so inconsequential. He'd squandered their opportunity to run away, however unrealistic it might have been… What he'd _like_ to do to help her would be to put President Snow and every person associated with the Hunger Games in front of a firing squad. He'd happily pull each and every trigger.

Fast movement just inside the Undersees' door caught his eye: a person darted in and out of view as they crossed the kitchen. Aware that none of the Undersees were the jumpy type, Gale was curious enough to walk to their fence for a better view. The person crossed the doorway again, and realized he'd never seen the Undersees' back door open the way it was tonight, even on the hottest summer days. He frowned in confusion and kept watching, alert to the possibility that someone might have broken into their house.

Suddenly a figure burst onto the back porch and ran down the stairs. It was Madge. And she was carrying a broom. She raced halfway into the yard and then spun to watch the door, holding the broom bristle-side up like a weapon in front of her, not taking her eyes off the brightly lit doorway. Was there an intruder in her house? Someone desperate and hungry and _stupid_ enough to break into the mayor's house? With a flash of panic, Gale registered that she wasn't wearing any shoes or socks, only shorts and a white tank top. Her normally smooth hair was in disarray and even from a distance he could see that she was shaking.

He scrambled over the fence and reached her in seconds. All her muscles were tense and she gripped the broom so tightly her knuckles were white. When she noticed him in her peripheral vision, she startled and moved back a few inches, eyes widening momentarily in shock. But then she immediately turned her attention back to the doorway to her house.

"You all right?" he asked urgently, keeping his voice low.

She jerked her head up once in an apparent nod, still focused on the door instead of Gale.

"Your parents in there?" He imagined the Undersees tied up and held hostage in their own home, Madge having just escaped. The anger amongst the miners about all the obscene pay cuts and long hours must have finally erupted. Most rational people understood that Mayor Undersee was powerless, but hunger and rage didn't necessarily leave people feeling rational.

"They're not home. It's just me."

So the intruders were smart _and_ cowardly: making a move when only the teenage girl was home. Rough her up. Steal whatever they could…

He squinted into the bright light bathing the yard. "How many are there?" He couldn't take on a whole gang, but maybe one or two… If there were more than that, he'd have to fetch the Peacekeepers, which would violate his new policy of avoiding the Peacekeepers whenever humanly possible.

"One. That I saw, at least."

"Armed?" Not that Gale had a weapon, but he could do some damage with the element of surprise and that broom Madge was holding.

"Winged," Madge said grimly. "It will come out soon on its own." She took a deep breath and said reluctantly, "Or I could go in there and shoo it out."

" _What?_ " Gale said loudly. He stepped away to look at her. "You're out here because there's a _bird_ in your house?"

Madge jumped again at his rise in volume and glanced at him. "It's a _bat_. A huge, gross, _vicious_ Brown Swarmer bat that _attacked_ me." She trained her eyes on the door again. "And I have to get rid of it before my parents get home because I left the kitchen a mess."

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. These were the problems of Madge Undersee: a rogue bat invading her house and worries about her parents discovering that she's a slob. He should turn around and walk out of the yard. He really should. _Right now._

But that would mean returning to his own thoughts and his own problems, none of which he could do anything about. And if there was one thing he was unquestionably good at, it was trapping animals. He hadn't hunted in months, not since… the day he was caught with the turkey. The day he would have died if not for Katniss. The memories and pain still haunted him, but it was the knowledge that a second offense would truly mean the end and that his family would have to do without him that had kept him from pushing his luck, even before the fence had been permanently electrified. He felt the anticipation of a trapping challenge calling out to him. Something he could do and feel useful. Besides, he reasoned, Swarmers were dangerous when cornered and Madge Undersee clearly had no clue how to handle the one in her house.

He snatched the broom out of her hands. Or tried to—she was clutching it so tightly she stumbled into him.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, still grasping the broom but now glaring at Gale.

He tugged the broom again, which had the side effect of pulling her even closer. "Getting rid of your little friend."

"I don't need your help," she scowled.

He twisted the broom clockwise, surprising Madge into letting go of it. "Swarmers are everywhere in the mines. I know how to deal with them."

He started walking toward her house.

"I don't need your help!" Madge called from behind him. "It will probably fly out on its own. Maybe it already left while you were talking!"

He paused on the first step and turned to look at her. She was pissed off: eyes narrowed, mouth set in a fierce frown. A total contrast to every single time he'd seen her since that night in the Seam. She had smoothly reverted to being the cool, collected proper Madge he was used to seeing. This was the first time she'd looked like the spirited girl he remembered dancing and spinning with.

Holding out the broom toward her as an offering, he said, "Maybe it flew away. Maybe it didn't. Don't you want to know?"

She studied Gale angrily for a few seconds and then pushed roughly past him, leading the way into her house and letting him keep the broom.

"It was in the kitchen," she huffed.

They stood in the doorway, scanning the brightly illuminated room for disturbances.

Gale whistled through his teeth. "That bat did a lot of damage, huh?"

Flour was strewn over most of one of the counters and three quarters of the floor, and bowls and spoons were scattered haphazardly. There were footprints in the flour on the ground—bare human feet (Madge) and a series of strange scratches (probably the bat and its wings). Gale could see why Madge's parents might be upset about the mess—it was pretty bad. He'd never seen their kitchen looking anything like this during all his years of selling strawberries at this very door.

Madge ignored his comment. "I don't see it. Oh God, what if it flew into the rest of the house?"

Gale ran the broom along the top of the refrigerator and the area between the top of the cupboards and the ceiling. "They like to be up high," he explained. "We find them in tunnels at work. They drop down out of nowhere and start flapping their wings in your face." He had heard many a grown man squeal in surprise. It was one of the few things that occasionally lifted the workers' spirits during mining shifts.

He could feel Madge watching him scout the room. "Why are you doing this?" she asked abruptly.

"Why not?" He opened the pantry door the rest of the way and shoved the broom into the dark corners to be sure the bat wasn't hiding in there.

"We're not friends," Madge said. "You've made that perfectly clear."

"If you keep yakking, we won't hear it," Gale warned, glaring in her direction for good measure. She was right—they definitely weren't friends—but he didn't want to talk about why not. He looked to the ceiling and tried to imagine where the bat would go. There were two doors leading out of the kitchen: one looked like a hallway and the other led to a formal dining room. The idea of a formal dining area seemed like a complete waste of space; he stored the knowledge for future resentment. He picked the dark hallway, figuring it resembled a cave enough that a bat might seek refuge in it after the stress of terrifying Madge. Walking down the hallway, he banged the broom along the walls in an attempt to get the bat moving again.

"Stop!" Madge shrieked.

He froze, eyes scanning the ceiling for whatever she must have seen.

"You're tracking flour on the carpet," Madge said. "Do you mind… taking your shoes off?"

He turned to look at her, incredulous, and then back toward the kitchen. Sure enough, he had left a set of big white footprints on the carpet runner. Purely to avoid another of her shrieks, he kicked off his shoes and cast a disgusted look in her direction.

"Thanks," she said weakly, but he was already focused on the hunt again.

The hallway led to the front door and the entryway, which connected to the massive Undersee living room. Gale doubted anyone did any living in this room. He suspected if you looked at something the wrong way it would shatter.

He spotted the bat, a dark mass on the top of one of the shelves, out of place amongst the intricate decorations in the rest of the room. He knew the feeling.

Madge moved to stand next to him so he nudged her, pointing at the animal. "It's on that shelf," he whispered. "Open the front door, I'm going to shoo it out from the right."

It felt strange to have to vocalize his plans—Katniss would have just known with a single glance. Maybe even before that. But he didn't have time to dwell and concentrated on listening to Madge walking toward the door and opening it. He signaled that he was moving forward, and then quietly approached the shelf and prodded the bat with the broom's brush.

An explosion of wings rocked the room, forcing Gale to duck or be clipped. The thing quadrupled in size as it flew wildly, circling the perimeter of the room instead of heading toward the door.

"It's not going outside!" Madge called from her hiding spot behind the door.

Gale darted to the other side of the room and leaped over the white and gray striped couch so he could block the bat from escaping down the hallway to the kitchen. It avoided him and flew toward Madge again, causing her to scream and run down the other, even darker hallway. Mentally cursing the needlessly huge size of the Undersee house, Gale chased the winged menace into a room dominated by a large piano and tried to shoo it back into the hallway, only to stumble into first Madge and then the door as he swung wildly at the air with the broom.

"I thought you said you knew how to get rid of these things!" she accused from the floor where she'd fallen.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet. "In mines, not mansions!"

She might have fallen to the ground again when he released her—he didn't bother to check because the little bastard had already flown back into the hallway to the foyer. He watched as it circled near the front door…

And then flew up, up, up. Gale tracked its erratic circular path and saw that the Undersees' entryway was two stories, a gap of open space connecting the two floors and spanned by the curving stairwell. The damn bat was moving into the upstairs part of the house.

Madge ran back and collided with him at the base of the stairs, her eyes following his.

"Oh no," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Gale and Madge both raced up the stairs and found the bat circling in the second floor hallway. Because of the low light, it appeared as a blurry movement that eventually landed on top of a large bureau in the hallway. Gale set the broom quietly on the carpet and pulled his jacket off.

"Open a window," he ordered Madge.

She disappeared into one of the rooms off the hallway and a few seconds later he heard the squeal of wood against wood. "Got it," she called.

Holding his jacket like a hand-held net, Gale crept toward the bureau where the bat was resting. When he was close enough, he lunged. The thing made a horrifying combination of clicks and squeals, wings thrusting out from the confines of the jacket but _he had it._ He ran into the room where Madge had gone and tried to disentangle the bat from his jacket but it was thrashing too violently and he didn't want to risk getting bitten or clawed so he finally just chucked both out. The bundle rolled down the gable below the window for a few seconds before the bat managed to free itself and flap off unsteadily into the night.

Gale slumped to the floor beside the window, pulling it closed with one arm. He was _exhausted_. But he also had a spark of the satisfaction he used to get after a successful hunting trip, the type of tired he actually liked as opposed to the sore muscles and raw-from-coughing-coal-dust fatigue the mines left him with.

Madge sank to the floor a few feet away. "Thank you," she exhaled.

He shrugged but mentally willed her not to ask him again why he did it. Because in the stillness of this darkened room it was starting to sink in just how strange it was to be in her house. One second he'd been walking home from the Victor's Village and then there was a blur that ended with him sitting on the floor in a room in the second story of the mayor's house. Madge's bedroom, most likely, judging by the small army of toy animals guarding the shelf next to him. He knew he should leave before her parents returned from wherever they were, but sitting on the floor of this room felt like a much-needed time out from his life. And Madge wasn't bothering him or making him talk; she was just quietly looking out the window with a thoughtful expression.

As he scooted back to lean against the end of the shelf, his thoughts drifted to a memory of something Katniss had said when he asked why she was friends with the mayor's daughter. _"She's easy to be around. She doesn't always need to talk. But when she does, she's nice."_ At the time, Gale had been irritated because that same type of ease was a quality he and Katniss appreciated in each other. He'd taken it as more evidence of Madge edging him out as Katniss's best friend, especially since Katniss spent so much time with Madge after becoming a victor and had skipped out on their Sunday hunting trips when she first got back. That hurt. But he generally considered Katniss a pretty good judge of character… Even Peeta and Haymitch, who he didn't actually like, were halfway decent people, at least in their dealings with Katniss. So there was a possibility that he'd been too hard on Madge…

She turned to face him, and he thought the light from the streetlamp outside her window made her tousled hair look even more pale than usual. He braced himself as she opened her mouth to speak.

"You know the old story about lone Swarmer Bats we heard in grade school?"

He was so relieved she hadn't asked anything awkward it took him a moment to realize what she was referring to. "You mean the old superstition?"

She nodded.

"It's nonsense," he said firmly. He'd given this same speech to Vick recently. "Just a story the upper grade kids tell to spook the younger ones before the first field trip to the mines."

"I know… But superstitions are usually based in reality in some way, aren't they? I mean, that thing dove at my head, like it was targeting me. Just like in the story."

"That bat," he gestured out the window, "did not want to fly into your house. There's probably a nest nearby and it got confused about where it was going. It doesn't mean something bad is going to happen to you." He squinted at Madge in the dark. Her bat-attack hair was mussed in several different directions at once and she still had flour smudges on her face. She looked like she'd been doing battle with baking ingredients, and obviously hadn't been near a mirror recently, which he didn't think was worth mentioning. "The bat probably wanted that flour in your hair. Can you blame him, with the prices lately?"

He was glad to see Madge smile lightly at his lame joke, but then he wondered if she had any inkling how much flour cost. Considering how much of it had been on the floor of her kitchen, he doubted it. He felt a snide comment bubbling its way up his throat, but it fell back when he saw the sadness creeping into Madge's expression. She sighed and hugged her legs to her chest, resting her cheek on her knees as she gazed at him.

"I wish there was something more I could do for Katniss," she said softly. "Peeta and Haymitch, too. It's so… wrong."

"It's beyond wrong." He spoke with such force his words felt like an arrow, seeking out a target. Unfortunately, this arrow thudded uselessly to the thick carpet.

"At least you have useful survival and fighting skills to teach them. I can't do much more than watch them train."

"The newspapers are a good idea," Gale said, much to his own surprise. "Being in the arena is so mental, they'll need every advantage they can get."

Madge studied him, and he wondered why he'd gotten it into his head that if Madge was friends with Katniss it somehow took away from his own friendship with her. Katniss needed all the friends she could get—old friends like Gale, and other friends like Madge who didn't have to spend all their time underground and had access to things like newspapers. There was also the possibility that Katniss liked… nice people. Peeta was sickeningly nice (more so to other people than Gale, which Gale actually appreciated). And maybe Madge qualified as nice too.

"I just saw Katniss," he volunteered. "They're meeting with some wrestlers Peeta knows tonight."

"Good." Madge beamed and lifted her head off her knees. "I remember Peeta talking about setting something up. Was Haymitch going, too?"

Gale scowled and picked at a thread in Madge's carpet. "Yeah."

"You don't like him."

"What's to like?"

"You don't like Peeta, you don't like me…" Madge scooted forward so he'd have to look at her. "Isn't that hard on Katniss?"

Gale was about to point out that facing twenty-two other people trying to murder her was what was hard on Katniss, but then the memory surfaced of Katniss's face when she'd stepped between him and Haymitch on the street. Madge had a point. He'd been consciously making an effort to not say mean things about Peeta to Katniss, out of respect for her confusion over her own feelings and the comfort she clearly got from the guy (and, _fine_ , also to make himself look better). Peeta was proving his dedication to Katniss day after day with all their training efforts, not to mention his obvious plan to sacrifice himself to keep her alive in the arena. So he was probably all right, but Gale didn't have the same concern about making nice to Haymitch, who was rude and usually deserved whatever Gale threw back at him. And Gale knew he had a whole separate set of issues when it came to Madge.

"It's probably not making anything easier for Katniss," Gale acknowledged stiffly. "I hadn't thought about it like that." Then he looked at Madge. "And you're… okay."

Madge stared at him for a few seconds, which made Gale feel like he'd said too much. But then she smiled, and thankfully didn't say anything that would make him regret sort of complimenting her. Her silence _was_ starting to make him fidgety though, the comfort of their quiet moment together earlier long gone. _This_ was why he couldn't just hang out with Madge Undersee. Because it was too easy to remember what she felt like and smelled like and how curious about her he'd been that night and still was—

He sprang to his feet. "I need to get home."

Madge caught up to him in the hallway as he was starting to descend the stairs. "Wait."

"What?" He paused on the second step.

"You're bleeding." Madge gestured toward his head.

He reached up and felt an area of raw skin on his forehead. He forgot he'd banged his head on a door downstairs. Then he held out his arms to make sure the bat hadn't broken any skin when he'd wrestled it into his jacket.

Madge gingerly inspected his arms as well. Her hands were soft and warm, without even a hint of calluses.

"All clear." She smiled and he felt frozen, confused by what made her eyes so fascinating. Was it something about the blue color or just that it was so easy to see what she was thinking? Because he could tell she was concerned about him, which felt… good. Unfamiliar. He was used to being the one taking care of people. She tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, there are some bandages in this bathroom."

He wasn't keen on lingering, but walking around the district dripping blood from his face would practically be an invitation for the Peacekeepers to interrogate him, so he followed Madge into a room dominated by blindingly white porcelain and more bottles and soaps than he'd ever seen in his life, including at the soap store in town. He leaned against the doorway and watched her paw through a narrow closet filled with towels and even more bottles.

Madge pulled out a washcloth, wet it under the tap, and turned toward Gale, suddenly much closer to him than he'd anticipated. She dabbed at his forehead and he wondered again why she was wearing so few clothes. The white tank top undershirt she had on was so thin he could see her bright blue bra underneath. He'd never seen one that color before, and he had some experience with bras. Not recent experience, regrettably. Was it a rich girl thing?

Too late he realized she had paused and was looking at him—and that he hadn't averted his eyes quickly enough. He took a fast step backward and mentally thanked his parents for not passing along any blushing traits to him. Madge was doing enough for both of them.

He reached for the washcloth in her hand. "I can do this on my own."

Madge quickly relinquished it and immediately stuck her nose back in the closet. "Okay," she said in a high-pitched voice. "I'll find the bandages, I know we have some."

Gale moved over to the sink to use the mirror hanging over it, which turned out to be a pretty good angle for him to check out her ass in those little shorts, and—

Maybe he didn't need to use the mirror. He focused on the sink.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, partly just so they could both stop thinking about what had just happened. He hadn't had a girlfriend in over a year now and it must be getting to him more than he'd realized. Maybe it was the blood loss from the head injury. He must have lost at least… a few drops.

"Dinner with friends," Madge said, sounding a little calmer but still buried in the closet. "Well, sort-of friends. People they tolerate because they have to."

Tolerating was the attitude Gale adopted in dealing with most people, though it was strange to think he had something in common with the Undersees. He was glad Madge couldn't see his amused expression and was impressed with her bluntness.

A few seconds later she emerged from the closet, holding a small basket of bandages. "Why are you asking about my parents?"

"Just wondering when they'd be back." As soon as the words were out, he couldn't correct them fast enough. " _Not_ because I thought we should… I was just…" He set the washcloth on the counter of the sink and stared at it, horrified at how much worse he was making the situation.

New rule: no more talking. Without looking at her, he held out his hand for the box of bandages, which Madge wordlessly passed over. As he dug through it, she hurriedly explained, "I think this type will work best, but we also have others in the closet if you think you need something else. I don't usually deal with this type of thing so I don't really know."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"I think you can figure it out, help yourself to whatever else you might need, I'm just going to run downstairs and close the doors. Don't want another bat to fly in, right? You said there might a nest nearby—"

"Right. Good plan."

She bolted out the door and seconds later he could hear her descending the stairs. As soon as he was sure she was an entire floor away, he covered his face with his hands as if he could block out the last few minutes. What a nightmare. He felt completely validated in having avoided her for so long. Because the cold hard truth was that he had some kind of weird attraction to Madge Undersee, and there could honestly not be a more inappropriate person for him to be thinking about in this way. He blamed his body for its betrayal. It felt like a betrayal of Katniss, too, which made him feel even worse.

He splashed water on his face to try to clear his head, and then grabbed the basket of bandages. The quicker he left, the better. He didn't want to interact with any of the Undersees, parents or daughter. He quickly attached a bandage to his forehead and then opened the closet door to put the basket away.

A small cardboard box caught his eye. He'd seen something like that before… At Katniss's house after he'd been whipped. Lifting the lid of the box with his finger, he confirmed it: morphling.

Just seeing the clear glass vials reminded him of the swift relief they brought whenever Mrs. E filled that syringe. At the time, he hadn't known what the liquid was and had just gratefully assumed Mrs. E had better medical supplies now that Katniss was rich. He'd asked Prim one day what it was and all she said was, "Strong medicine." Later he'd looked at the box to learn the drug's name—morphling, which he recognized from Hunger Games broadcasts—and figured Prim hadn't told him out of fear that he'd reject it or raise a fuss about how expensive it was. He wondered why Madge's family needed this type of medicine. Were they scared they would get whipped too, with these asshole new Peacekeepers, and kept it around as a precaution? The idea of anyone in the mayor's family being whipped was absurd, but so were these new Peacekeepers…

He could hear Madge coming upstairs again, and seconds later she walked into the bathroom. She froze mid-step in the doorway and turned bright red.

"Did… someone tell you what I did?" she asked unsteadily. Her eyes were fixed on the small box as though it were a bomb that might explode at any second.

"Tell me what?"

Madge immediately started backing into the hallway, away from Gale like he was a larger version of the bat that had just been bothering her. "Nothing."

He shoved the morphling box back into the closet and followed her into the hallway, where he found her picking up the broom he'd dropped earlier.

"Something about that medicine?" Her reaction was making him uneasy, and the idea that she knew something he didn't—and wasn't telling him—was infuriating. "Madge. _What?_ "

She met his eyes when he said her name and then immediately bit her lip and looked at the floor. After a few seconds, she mumbled something and then tried to walk past him.

He reached for the broom's handle to stop her. "I didn't hear—"

"I said, _did someone tell you I brought it to you that night_?" Madge blurted, looking up at him and not looking away this time.

Several loose facts dislodged from wherever they'd been hiding in his head. The first was of Haymitch quizzing him about his contact with the Undersees. Gale had been defensive, annoyed at the prospect of Haymitch having heard about him and Madge together that night in the Seam and making assumptions about something— _nothing_ , really—so ancient.

He also remembered Katniss asking him about Madge. Overly casually. Once she asked whether he'd ever seen Madge in the forest—he'd laughed scornfully, the idea was so absurd, although Katniss later explained that she'd taken Madge out a few times last fall. He hadn't liked hearing that. Katniss had also asked whether he was still including the Undersees on his sales route. He'd thought she was inquiring because she wanted to be sure he was making as much money as they used to make together, but now…

Haymitch and Katniss both read something into the fact that Madge brought morphling to him.

Should he?

It meant she didn't want him to be in pain. That wasn't especially illuminating—he'd seen people after mining accidents in excruciating pain and he couldn't think of anyone in District 12 who wouldn't want to press a magic button that would make the wailing and anguish go away.

More interesting: it meant disobedience. The medicine was no doubt expensive, and she might have taken it without permission. It was risky, too. The Peacekeepers wouldn't have been thrilled to learn that the mayor's daughter was aiding the district's most notorious poacher. They might have punished her family, which could have gotten her father in trouble with the Capitol…

He realized that the girl who'd taken him up on his dare to attend a Seam dance had it in her to do more than just flout decorum and district social divisions.

"No one told me," he said, finally answering her question. He hated being the last to know things. He hated even more thinking that others were… speculating about him. And Madge. Together. That _Katniss_ had been speculating. But not saying anything to him, which hurt for some reason. It also meant that Katniss knew exactly why Haymitch kept making those snide references about Madge to him… She always defended him, but had never explained to him what Haymitch's problem was… With a pang, Gale realized this was one more thing he and Katniss didn't talk about.

Madge seemed paralyzed and watched him fearfully.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked softly.

She swallowed and didn't say anything, which was an answer in itself. The way she was looking at him said it all; he knew why she did it. She felt something for him and wasn't even trying to hide it. Her eyes were locked with his and he was hit by that _someone likes me_ rush, an uplifting and refreshingly normal wave of emotion he hadn't experienced in what seemed like forever. And despite Madge's earlier embarrassment, now she seemed to be growing bolder the longer she watched him.

Then she broke the spell with a small smile and said lightly, "Why not?"

He laughed, appreciating her skill at throwing his own words back at him. And he liked her even more in that moment for not actually turning sappy or forcing into the open something they were both aware of.

Before he could mull that apparent contradiction, he heard the sound of a door creaking downstairs.

"Madge?" The concerned voice of Mayor Undersee floated up the stairwell.


	4. Chapter 4

On hearing her father calling up the stairs for her, Madge's first thought was: _Go Away!_

But as she watched Gale not so subtly scan their surroundings for an alternate exit, her thoughts shifted to the fact that her parents must have discovered the living room torn apart and flour strewn all over the kitchen. The way she and Gale looked would also probably not go over well: she was wearing her rattiest shirt (which, thanks to Gale's wandering eyes, she now had confirmation as being embarrassingly thin) and Gale was clad in a similarly ratty undershirt. And neither of them had shoes on.

Gale swore. "What will they do?"

"No idea."

"Madge!" Her father sounded more urgent. "Are you home? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine! Upstairs!" Madge hollered. To Gale she whispered, "Don't say anything about the morphling to them!"

"Shouldn't I thank them? Isn't that _polite_?" Madge marveled momentarily at his talent for turning nice, ordinary words into insults. Then his face grew slack. "Oh shit… Did you steal it?"

"No! My mom let me take it." Her mom just might not remember saying yes because she'd been under a pretty hefty morphling dosage of her own when Madge asked… "My dad doesn't know. He'd be… alarmed."

Gale frowned and then glanced longingly at the nearest window and swore again. Madge put her hand on his arm to soothe him. "We'll just explain about the bat," she said.

Gale ran his hand through his hair and then let his fingers travel over the bandage on his forehead. "They'll never buy that; it's ridiculous. They're going to think we were—"

"It's fine, it's the truth," Madge said. "Let's go."

She led the way downstairs. Her parents were starting to walk up the staircase but stopped when they saw her and Gale.

"Margaret," her father said in a warning tone. Her mother simply stared in mute horror.

Madge decided it was time for a charm offensive. "Mom, Dad, this is Gale Hawthorne," she said calmly as they joined her parents in the entryway. "Katniss Everdeen's friend. Um, cousin. You might remember him from the interviews or other events we hosted when Katniss came back." Events that Gale skipped; she figured her parents would assume they'd forgotten him. Just one of the many miners and Seam dwellers of the district, worthy of compassion and protection but not necessarily a name. "Gale graciously helped me get a _monstrous_ , vicious bat out of the house. He saved us all from the diseases it was probably carrying."

Mrs. Undersee glanced down the hallway toward the kitchen. "A bat? The kitchen… It looks like the place was ransacked!"

"I tried to cook," Madge said, "but I couldn't figure out the oven." She smiled innocently. Getting her parents off her back was more valuable than her pride. "I guess I need more lessons. I burned some biscuits and the bat flew in while I had the door open to get the smoke out. Gale saw me in the yard after the bat drove me out of the house…" She trailed off as she realized just how quickly he'd appeared. What was the difference between walking past at the right moment and skulking around in the alley? Was his timing really that good? She'd seen him in the alley before, never stingy with the glares he flung towards her house.

Mrs. Undersee's eyes swept over Gale, cataloguing every hole in his T-shirt and stain on his canvas pants.

Gale crossed his arms and held his ground against the inspection. "You might have a bat nest nearby," he said in his know-it-all voice that Madge recognized from when he bossed everyone around during the Seam dance. "Brown Swarmers like nesting in eaves; I'd check there first."

Neither of Madge's parents responded, probably still too shocked, but Madge hid a smile, strangely proud. All the merchants sucked up to her parents, and here was Gale Hawthorne in a T-shirt and no shoes, telling them what to do.

Apparently Gale interpreted her parents' silence as willingness to listen because he continued with his lecture. "And you should all be more careful about keeping your doors locked. I wouldn't underestimate the number of angry, desperate people in this district."

Mayor Undersee fixed one of his most intimidating glares on Gale. "Are you threatening my family?"

"Of course not!" Madge moved a little closer to Gale to shield him from the hostility. "He's warning us. He _helped_ me. Look, he got injured!"

She pointed to Gale's forehead, which her father barely glanced at.

"Yes, he's the picture of altruism."

Gale seemed to be game for a staring contest with Madge's father, and Madge saw that she needed to intervene so she gently tapped Gale's arm. "Your shoes," she murmured, pointing to where he'd abandoned his boots in the hallway. Madge faced her parents and smiled tightly. "I'll clean up the kitchen."

Stand-off sufficiently defused, Gale headed down the hallway to his work boots, which were as out of place in the Undersees' hallway as Gale himself. As he slipped them on, Mrs. Undersee walked to the banister and picked up what Madge recognized as Gale's jacket.

"I take it this is yours, as well?" she asked in her most aloof tone, holding the jacket as though it had fleas. "We found it on the walkway outside. I thought it was a dead animal."

Madge snatched the jacket out of her mother's hands. " _Thank_ you, Mother."

She was rewarded with an icy smile. Madge pushed the jacket into Gale's torso, nudging him so he'd walk down the hallway. She needed to get him out of her house as soon as possible; her mother was just getting going and Gale didn't seem like the type to take it. They skirted the dusting of flour in the kitchen on their way to the back door. Once on the porch, Gale practically leapt down the stairs and perched on the lowest step to tie his shoelaces.

Madge sat next to him and watched his fingers fly through the knots. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't be. That could have been so much worse." He finished tying the laces and then looked at her out of the corner of his eye and winked. "Think your mom's regretting giving me that morphling now?"

Flushing, Madge wondered which would be more mortifying: admitting she'd taken advantage of her mother's semi-conscious state, or that her mother was so frequently in that state? At least Gale already suspected the morphling delivery had been Madge's idea, not her mother's. That particular embarrassing admission was out of the way.

"Well, what do you say we're even now?" he asked as he stood up.

Katniss was like this, too, Madge thought—obsessed with balance, even on friend-level things like whose house to spend time at.

"Unwanted animal removal services for that medicine," Gale continued. "Although I think I got the better end of the deal."

Madge stood too, amused he felt the need to negotiate about activities they'd both undertaken voluntarily. "Really? You think _that_ —" she gestured toward her house with her head, "wasn't painful? Having to deal with angry parents counts for more than you think it does."

"Your parents were nothing. I've had other girlfriends with much worse—" He cut himself off and looked even more embarrassed than when she'd caught him staring at her chest. Madge felt her face growing warm again, partly out of embarrassment but also a little out of excitement that he'd accidentally confirmed what they were both dancing around. "Sorry," he said stiffly. "With the parents thing it just felt like it…I didn't mean anything."

Madge nodded like she had loads of experience evading disapproving parents with boyfriends and searched desperately for a subject change. "Um, what you were just saying to my father… Are people really that mad?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, his relief evident from his answering speed. "When I saw you outside I thought…" He paused and exhaled. "You need to be careful."

"What have you heard?" she asked quietly. Maybe he would forget he was talking to the mayor's daughter. Maybe he would be so eager to paint over his slip-up that he'd accidentally divulge something…

"Nothing specific. A lot of bluster."

Madge thought she detected some regret in his tone. Before she could think much more about it though, Gale shrugged on his jacket. It made him look so much like a miner that she started picturing miners huddling together in angry knots deep in the dark tunnels, conspiring and plotting. So many people recognized her as the mayor's daughter, she was on the receiving end of more than her fair share of hostile looks. Maybe she did need to be more careful…

She realized Gale was talking again. Something about getting home to give some medicine to his brother. Shaking herself out of her worries, she smiled in his direction. "Thanks again, Gale."

It seemed like she'd caught him off-guard, but after a few seconds he recovered and said, "Thank _you_. For the morphling."

He pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked at Madge for a few long moments, which made her feel like a bubble was expanding in her chest. Whenever he focused his unique brand of quiet intensity on her, she forgot what she was meant to be doing. Were they having a conversation? Was she supposed to respond? All she wanted to do was keep watching him. Well, all right, she wanted to do more than that…

Gale swallowed and looked like he was struggling to find words. "So. Katniss's birthday is coming up," he finally said. "Prim and my brother have been talking about throwing a surprise party for her, which I thought was a stupid idea and would just annoy her, but… Maybe they're onto something. The distraction and being with people she cares about could be good for her."

"Making happy memories is always a good idea," Madge agreed. Katniss could probably use more. Madge herself was still haunted by even her spectator's experience of Katniss and Peeta's Hunger Games. Sometimes when she couldn't sleep at night and the terrible images crept in under her eyelids, she would consciously try to re-live her own favorite memories, like dancing with Gale at that Seam dance and sneaking beyond the fence with Katniss to explore the forest. Her mind frequently returned to that night with Gale, actually.

She realized she had been staring wistfully at him again and promptly switched on a smile. "A party would be great. I know you know how to have fun when properly motivated." She remembered how competitive he'd gotten about proving to her that Seam dances were better than any entertainment town offered. Madge felt bold for mentioning that night since she generally got the sense Gale preferred to ignore that they'd ever done anything more together than occasionally barter on her back porch.

It took Gale a moment to catch her reference, but then a small smile crept onto his face. "You know how to have fun too, Madge." He held her gaze for a few seconds and then cleared his throat in an apparent effort to get back on topic. "This thing for Katniss… It would be small. Her family, my family… I guess we'd have to invite Mellark. And Haymitch." Even saying their names left Gale looking like he'd eaten something rotten, but Madge decided to count it as progress that he'd included them. "You too, of course. If you want to help plan it—"

"I do. I'd love to help." Finally, something she could do besides sneaking newspapers. She also felt a flutter of anticipation—a party with Katniss and Peeta would definitely not fall into the "social chore" category.

Gale smiled slowly. "All right then. Talk to Prim." He glanced into the wreckage of the Undersees' kitchen. "You might want to let Mellark handle the cake, though."

"Fine," she said archly. "But _only_ because he's a professional."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself." He grinned again and started backing away so he could walk home. "Stay safe, Madge. Don't let the bats run you out of your own house."

As she watched him walk off, appreciating the rear view and the fact that he couldn't see her checking him out, she felt infinitely lighter than she had earlier in the evening. She floated up the stairs back into her kitchen. Unfortunately, she was greeted by the mess she'd left.

And her father. He handed her the broom, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. Madge eyed him suspiciously and wondered if he'd eavesdropped on her conversation with Gale.

"Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs."

Madge knew that meant her mother had delegated the "talk to _your_ daughter about her scandalous behavior" task to him. All of Madge's less than desirable traits had apparently been passed down through the Undersees, not the Donners.

"Well?" her father prompted. "Were you planning on telling us about this young man?"

"Tell you what? He helped get rid of a pest. He's not someone I would _date_ ," she added in her best daughter-of-her-mother snobby tone. Her mother would interpret her statement as disqualifying Gale as a prospect because he was a miner, but her father just watched her skeptically.

"Isn't he the one who used to sell berries to us with Katniss Everdeen?"

"Mmmm hmmmm." Madge concentrated on sweeping in an attempt to cut off the conversation.

"In all my years of overpaying for berries from that boy I've never seen him smile before."

Madge froze. Her father _had_ been watching them. She bent down to sweep the flour pile into the dustpan to hide her blush.

He waited for her to stand up. When she glanced in his direction again, the lines on his forehead gave away that he was about to lecture her.

"Madge, you're getting to the age where… You're seventeen now…" He frowned and appeared to be searching for the right words. "I know you realize that the district isn't the same place it used to be, and there are certain elements…" He pursed his lips the way he did when he was getting ready to chew out one of his deputies. "Madge, you are not to entertain boys in the house when we aren't home."

"I wasn't _entertaining_ him," Madge said quickly. "Entertaining" made it sound like she'd invited Gale over for tea in the parlor and then lured him up to her bedroom. Or that she had somehow seduced him away from the tea table over to the sofa right there in the parlor... She blushed harder as images of what that might entail assaulted her. _Something_ happening with Gale hadn't been entirely out of the realm of possibility, she realized. She knew there were countless reasons why it was a bad idea, but she tended to forget every single one of them whenever she was near him and had a feeling Gale's memory wasn't perfect either.

"Regardless, I expect you to obey this rule," her father said firmly as he pushed himself off the counter. "Do you understand?"

Madge nodded vigorously, eager to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Her father seemed just as relieved to be finished talking because he quickly hugged her and wished her a good night. Then he disappeared, leaving Madge alone in the disaster zone otherwise known as the kitchen. She looked around at the evidence of her attempt to prove to her parents she wasn't a little kid anymore and smiled softly when she realized she'd done just that.

Sometime later when she wasn't so flustered, she could ask her father more about the changes in the district. But for now, as she cleaned the kitchen by herself and before she went back to worrying about her friends, she could indulge in remembering all the highlights of a second surprise evening with Gale. Best of all, he didn't seem like he was going to shut her out of his life this time.

She _knew_ staying home alone was a good idea.


End file.
